


Midnight Wake-up Call

by WillfullyMysterious



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Awkward Sexual Situations, Cheating, Come Swallowing, Dubious Consent, F/M, Facials, First Time Blow Jobs, Minor Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Mistaken Identity, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillfullyMysterious/pseuds/WillfullyMysterious
Summary: "She braces herself, fully prepared to go home if this isn’t it, and call it a night. Her breath is harsh, and she starts breathing more slowly just to quiet the sound. She lifts herself up slightly, weight on her knees, as she peeks her head inside- thankful this window is at least open, unlike Octavia’s - and immediately her stomach flips. She peers inside, seeing a queen-sized bed on the opposite side of the room with a green comforter and Finn’s body sleeping under the covers, with only little wisps of his black hair visible. Holy shit. She’s actually going to do this."Seventeen-year-old Clarke Griffin has never sucked a dick before, but her boyfriend, Finn, really wants her to go down on him. Weeks ago, he told her about a fantasy he’d been having, in which she climbs into his window in the middle of the night and blows him while he’s sleeping. This weekend, Clarke finally musters up the courage to go to his house and do just that. Unfortunately, however, she doesn’t know which room is his- and it’s really unfortunate, that she doesn’t know about how his stepbrother, Bellamy, happens to be home from college this same weekend.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 49
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with another fic! Kind thanks to everyone who left kudos on my last story, I really appreciate it.
> 
> For anyone who is concerned with the tags: The somnophilia is brief and entirely accidental due to mistaken identify. Underage- Clarke is 17, Bellamy's age is unspecified, hinting at early-mid twenties. The dubcon tag is mainly in regards to the non con somnophilia.  
> If these tags are triggering or offensive to you, I advise against reading this fic. 
> 
> I don't think this story will be longer than 2 or 3 chapters, but honestly, it seems that I can't keep any of the promises I make to readers, so I promise nothing.

Polis avenue is dark, illuminated only by streetlamps when Clarke walks the familiar route over to her boyfriend Finn’s house, heart beating fast as the mailbox numbers go higher and higher up until she reaches 100. His house looks the same as always: a blue, moderately sized two story, with a two car-garage attached and an inground swimming pool in the back — pretty similar to her own house, except her house is white, and has a bigger yard. The porch light is off, and there don’t seem to be any signs of activity going on inside the house. Good. It’s almost 2am anyway; she doesn’t imagine his dad or stepmom would be awake at this hour.

Her and Finn have been dating for a while now — well, to her 3 months is awhile. They’re both seventeen, and so far, Clarke has never dated anyone longer than she’s dated him. She thinks she might even love him. Which is why she’s here. She stands by the mailbox for a minute, body jumpy with nerves before she looks down to her phone and pulls up the message Harper had sent her half an hour ago for encouragement.

_That’s my girl! Now go get him blondie and SUCK. THAT. DICK!_

Clarke smiles to herself at her friend’s enthusiasm, and then puts her phone away, looking around for the best way to get to the second floor. She’s glad she has Harper for this honestly, because Harper’s done this before with her boyfriend, Monty, and she knows what she’s talking about. It was her idea that Clarke even come here in the first place, after her and Finn got into that argument over how he always goes down on her and she never returns the favor. Which — okay, fair enough. He _has_ gone down on her, many times since they started dating, and Clarke has never reciprocated. She’s thought about it before, and even almost went through with it once, but she chickened out before he even unbuttoned his jeans — which only triggered his frustration with her more. This weekend though, she’s spent hours looking up posts on how to give the perfect blowjob, even _sort of_ practiced on a banana she grabbed from her kitchen, and tonight, she’s _ready_.

To her surprise, scaling the roof of the garage is not quite as difficult as she assumed. She uses the recycling bins in the driveway as a step ladder of sorts, and from there she just kind of launches herself up. It works on the second try, and Clarke is relieved she hasn’t made too much noise as she climbs the rest of the way up, using the chimney pipe as leverage until she finds her footing. It’s both nerve racking and exhilarating, being high up on a roof like this. She looks around — even pulling out her phone and taking a panoramic picture to send to Harper — and makes sure the neighbors aren’t suddenly awake now, poking heads out their windows looking for anything unusual.

She tiptoes across the roof of Finn’s garage, noticing 3 windows in her line of sight, and instantly she realizes her mistake.

_She has no idea which bedroom is his._

It’s stupid really, that Clarke didn’t think of it before she left her house, and now she almost wants to kick herself at how little thought she put into this plan. Because yeah, she’s been to Finn’s house before, but never upstairs in his room. His parents have always been strict about that —she remembers his dad saying something once about how his younger stepsister might get ideas for when she started dating —but the reason hardly matters now. She’s standing here, on the roof of her boyfriend’s house at 2am, with no idea which room is his. Technically, she _could_ call him, but that would ruin the surprise. The whole point of her coming here unannounced was so that she could not only give him a blowjob finally, but so that she could also indulge his fantasy —the one he told her about.

_“Fuck, princess, I can just imagine it — you, climbing into my bedroom window, and me, waking up with my cock in your mouth. You with your blonde hair and pretty lips wrapped around me. Fuck. It gets me so hard just picturing it.”_

Finn had told her about _that_ particular fantasy almost two weeks ago at her house, while he laid on her bed —cock straining in his jeans, and chin shiny with her juices —and Clarke stayed next to him in her post orgasm bliss, bristling just slightly when he called her ‘princess’. God, she hated that nickname.

Now, she realizes that she should probably just go home and give up before someone catches her. Make some up excuse if Harper asks and try to subtly find out from Finn which room is his, the next time she talks to him, that way she can come back another weekend and do it then. It’s stupid to stay _really_ -she’s dressed in dark clothes in the middle of the night standing on someone else’s roof — it’s reckless and probably a recipe for disaster. But, for some reason —perhaps some form of foolish determination —she stays where she is, zipping up her black hoodie and couching down quietly before crawling towards the windows, seeing if one of them leads to Finn’s room. If she’s wrong, and none of them are his room, she’ll give up and try another time, but honestly, her nerves are like electricity lighting up her body right now, making her skin feel tight and stomach heavy with something she can’t quite name. Something inside her just _knows_ that she’ll never get this kind of courage again if she doesn’t do this tonight. _It’s now or never._

She moves slowly, constantly looking around for any onlookers when she approaches the first window. She presses her face to the glass and looks in — very aware of how _bad_ this would look to anyone who happened to be walking or driving by — and her eyes adjust, allowing her to see posters of boy bands, a mirror vanity and an open closet with bright colors inside. It takes her no more than two seconds to figure out it’s his stepsister, Octavia’s room, and immediately she turns her head away to crawl toward the second window —only to see that the young girl’s bedroom has two windows. Which she now realizes leaves her with only one more shot at going through with this tonight —the third window.

“Fuck.” She can’t help muttering, voice just barely audible, even to her own ears. She stops crawling for a moment, just feet before the last window, and breathes.

_And let’s see what’s behind door number 3._ Her mind comically supplements, no doubt bringing flashbacks to that one neighbor who babysat her as a kid, and always watched those television game shows. _“It’s always door number 3.”_ The woman used to tell her; a knowing smirk etched on her face. For once, Clarke hopes that old kook is right.

She braces herself, fully prepared to go home if this isn’t it, and call it a night. Her breath is harsh, and she starts breathing more slowly just to quiet the sound. She lifts herself up slightly, weight on her knees, as she peeks her head inside- thankful this window is at least open, unlike Octavia’s — and immediately her stomach flips. She peers inside, seeing a queen-sized bed on the opposite side of the room with a green comforter and Finn’s body sleeping under the covers, with only little wisps of his black hair visible. _Holy shit. She’s actually going to do this._

Clarke places her hands on the window and lifts the glass just enough so they she can fit through. She keeps her eyes on Finn the whole time, worried that he might wake up at any sudden sounds. They’ve never slept in the same bed before; she doesn’t know if he might be a light sleeper. He doesn’t stir, much to her relief, and Clarke bends her back, hunching over just enough so that she can step into the room from outside the window — incredibly thankful that the floor is carpeted, keeping her landing quiet. She steps through, and immediately her nose is hit with a masculine scent. It’s subtle, but not off putting like she worried it would be. She’s surprised actually- Finn normally smells like axe body spray, not whatever scent is in here. She thinks it’s better, actually, his natural scent that’s permeated in this room instead of his preferred products. It’s not that he smells bad or anything, but something about this scent seems to create warmth in her stomach.

Hmm. Perhaps she’ll tell him to skip the cologne next time she sees him.

Quietly, and ever so cautious, Clarke unzips her hoodie and removes her hair tie, letting her blonde waves fall around her face. On all the websites she searched with her incognito browser, most of them recommended that she leave her hair up, so as not to get loose strands in her mouth —but she removes the black hair tie anyway, remembering Finn’s fantasy about seeing her blonde hair while he looked at her mouth being- _occupied_.

She folds her hoodie and places it on a chair nearby the window which turns out to go with a matching computer desk — but not before grabbing the bright poppy colored lipstick that she brought with her and carried in her pocket, just for this purpose. Clarke leans over the window ledge, using moonlight to provide her phone’s camera with enough brightness to see herself —and she carefully applies the beautiful red shade to her full lips, a twinge of excitement building inside her at the thought of finally doing something so bold, so _sexy_. She looks at her work from her phone’s camera, and rustles her hair a bit more, trying to give it a sort of wild, sultry look that she always thought looked hot on girls.

Finally, she pulls back from the window once again, satisfied with her appearance, and places her phone next to her hoodie, before turning to Finn, who’s head is still completely tucked under his blankets, snoring lightly.

She stops for a moment, trying to get a feel for his room. She’s never been inside it before, having always been barred by his parents. She’s surprised however, to see the TonDC Tech poster on the wall near his bed. That’s his dad’s alma matter, and one of the best schools in the region. She knows Mr. Collins really wants him to study there after high school, but Finn always seemed more interested in Ark U. The poster makes sense though, she supposes. She knows his dad has been really pushing this on him for the last few years, mainly because his stepbrother, Bellamy, attends that school, something Finn never seems to stop complaining about. He’s been there for a while she thinks, maybe on his third or even final year. He studies an applied science; she can’t remember which though.

Clarke’s met Bellamy a few times since she’s known Finn, and has heard about him even more, she knows just how much they don’t get along. Finn’s always complaining about him it seems, whenever they hang out over at her house and anything even reminds him remotely of his stepbrother, he’ll go off on a tangent about how much of an asshole he is. She knows that when their parents first got married and Bellamy and Octavia moved into the Collin’s house there were a lot of problems. And she knows that Finn has a lot of bottled-up resentment about his blended family, but to Clarke that’s all it is —family problems. She doesn’t have any siblings herself, and her parents are always working it seems. While Finn goes off all the time talking about how hard it is, she tries to listen, but honestly, she just doesn’t get why it bothers him so much. At least he _has_ siblings to complain about.

_But anyway,_

Back to the task at hand. Clarke looks over at her sleeping boyfriend while she peels off the rest of her clothes. He’s seen her naked before, and she knows she’d probably be uncomfortable bent over on her knees by the foot of his bed with her jeans still on. She takes off her t-shirt and bra, taking extra care to not mess up her tussled hair, and removes her sneakers and jeans, deciding however, to leave her lacy red panties on — they match her lipstick.

The further away from the window she gets the darker the room looks, and the harder it is to see him. He’s on his back though, she thinks, which will make her job a lot easier. Nervous, Clarke slowly, _gently,_ lifts the comforter where it hangs off the bed by Finn’s feet. Not even breathing, and eyes staring like a hawk, she places one knee on the bed, her face scrunching up with worry when the mattress groans slightly. She stops, one leg on the bed the other still on the floor, and watches. Nothing.

Relieved, and almost desperate to just get it over with, she climbs on the bed completely — only for her heart to stop beating when he finally moves. She’s frozen, panicked, as Finn’s body adjusts itself in the blankets, groaning slightly in that way that sleeping people do. She doesn’t move for nearly a whole minute, too scared to risk it, she doesn’t know why though. He’s her _boyfriend_ , he told her he wanted her to do this. Even if he does wake up, he’ll probably be too excited about having his dick sucked to even care whether he’s asleep or not. He’s been begging her to do this for months, she really doubts it’ll matter if she wakes him up now.

Still though, Clarke is determined to make this good for him, especially since they’ve been fighting about it so much recently. Once she does this, she wants them to go back to how things used to be in the beginning of their relationship — back when they were always happy and never fought. _She can do this._

Heart in her throat, Clarke ventures further once she knows he’s still asleep. She ducks her head under the covers, and sees his legs —well, the shape of his legs at least —spread apart just wide enough so that she can fit in between them. It’s dark in the room, and it’s even worse under the blankets. Her fingers touch his skin, barely brushing the hair of his legs as she travels upwards, stopping when she feels what could only be his boxers. She can’t see at all. Really, she’s just going by instinct as she moves her hands towards the center of the fabric, stopping abruptly when she feels _him_ , semi hard between his legs.

_Ohhhh._

She’s never touched him before, too nervous to even do that. She struggles to breathe under the blankets —much less keep her breathing muffled —but yet, the feel of him underneath his boxers, warm, and slightly hard, and foreign to her, has her placing her free hand over her mouth so as not to gasp. Her stomach is hot, heavy with a deep arousal she’s not sure she’s ever felt before, and she finds herself suddenly eager to get her mouth on him. 

Heart racing, and skin hot, Clarke leans down and puts her mouth on his boxers, placing open mouthed kisses over the fabric covering his cock, trying to be as quiet as possible. Her cunt throbs, and Clarke squirms just slightly, feeling the familiar surge of wetness dripping from her core into her panties. She never realized just how amazing, how _fucking hot_ she would feel, being the one in this position. She’d heard other girls at school complaining about having to give their boyfriends head. Never had she even considered that she might actually _like_ doing something like this.

Blindly, she mouths at his boxers, soaking the fabric with her spit as he gets larger _, harder_ underneath them. She’s probably staining them she thinks, leaving bright red marks the shape of her lips on the crotch, unable to be removed by even the strongest bleach, ruining them forever. _Whatever._ At least he’ll have something to remember this by.

She likes it, the feel of him on her lips as he swells, standing upright in his boxers. It pleases her, how little time she’s put into this before he’s fully hard, straining against the fabric. She moves her mouth up and down his clothed shaft, relishing in how _warm_ it is, before finally wrapping her fingers around his waistband and gently pulling. She moves slowly, _torturously, achingly_ _slowly,_ before his cock finally comes free. She doesn’t truly remove his boxers, rather she simply pulls the front of them down enough to expose him to her waiting mouth.

Again, she can’t see him, not anything beyond a basic outline anyway, but she can smell him, masculine —almost woodsy— and she can feel the heat radiating off him, the same way it had when she was mouthing at him. She touches him, for the first time ever in their relationship, ever so delicately, and is rewarded with a quiet, breathy moan from somewhere above her. She stills, only for a moment before continuing the light movement, fingers traveling from the base to the head, and marvels at how soft the skin is — how _big_ it is. Her body is warm, both from the blankets and the heat burning inside her, as she finally pulls her hand away and replaces it with her tongue.

And- _oh_

She wasn’t expecting it —the jolt of hot, searing pleasure that scorches her core, as she finally tastes her first cock. It’s hot, and soft, but firm and heavy as Clarke swirls her tongue around the head, brain swimming with endorphins. _She’s doing it,_ her mind eagerly screams. _She’s actually giving her boyfriend a blowjob._

She tries reminding herself to be delicate as she licks the head, and she is for a while, choosing to simply flick her tongue over the slit, slowly, playfully. But her cautious delicacy is quickly replaced with eagerness once she starts hearing Finn reacting above her — maybe even waking up. A flash of heat stabs her core at the thought, and within a split second, Clarke sucks the head completely into her mouth, satisfaction filling her when she feels her boyfriend’s body shifting slightly, a broken moan sounding from his lips, deep and rough and-

“ _Ohh-”_

He groans, breathless, and Clarke brings her mouth further down his shaft — breathing through her nose like all those articles suggested —until she reaches her limit and gags a bit, her mouth completely full of him. And suddenly, he shifts, lifting his torso and forcing her to move up the bed with him, his cock still in her mouth.

“What in the— _wait_ — **_whoa!_** ”

His voice sounds lower than normal, thick with confusion and tired from sleep. Quickly, she hears the click of a lamp turning on before he pulls the blankets off them and Clarke looks up at him, eyes big, hair down, lips red and wrapped around his cock like he told her he wanted —but then— _fuck._

**_HOLY FUCK._ **

She rips herself off him immediately, mouth pulling away with a humiliating pop, and she falls backwards, dropping to the floor on her ass with a thud. She grabs the sheet he threw to the floor, realizing that she’s almost entirely naked, wearing nothing but a sopping wet lace thong and red lipstick —the color of which is now stained onto a cock which is most definitely _not_ attached to her boyfriend.

She stares, too dumbstruck to scream, while she looks up from the floor into the eyes of an equally shocked Bellamy Blake, who sits on the bed peering down at her, cock still hard and wet from her ministrations.

_Oh GOD._

What has she _done_?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely more of a season one type Bellamy btw

Bellamy can’t remember her name— the blonde girl, the one who Finn’s been dating. He’s met her before though, _definitely,_ at least once or twice. Last year, at a summer party his parents hosted before she and his stepbrother were together—she was wearing a blue string bikini and a pair of white denim shorts. He remembers being introduced to her, and how his eyes bulged a bit whenever she moved, her tits bouncing lightly underneath the baby blue fabric—matching her big doe eyes. He thinks she might have also been at the Memorial Day barbeque this past May, although Bellamy can’t be totally sure on that front –he was way too drunk to remember most things from that night. And then of course there was the family dinner a few weeks ago before he went back to school, when she came over and Finn officially introduced her to everyone as his girlfriend. Bellamy didn’t end up staying for dinner, much to his mother’s disappointment, but he did brush past her in the doorway, keys in hand, and he muttered a quick ‘hello’ before driving off to meet Murphy and Miller.

Her name is Claire maybe, or Claudia —something with a C, that much he’s certain.

Or _Princess_

That’s what Finn always calls her at least. He’s heard the nickname a lot this past summer —whenever Finn runs up into his room to call her, his overly loudmouth traveling outside his bedroom door and into the halls, voice dripping with a pretension that makes Bellamy’s eyes roll. Truthfully, Bellamy’s never given much thought to her name because it never mattered to him before, what his cocky stepbrother’s girlfriend’s name was. He’s kicking himself now however, because knowing her name would be _really_ fucking helpful right in this moment.

It was a quarter to 11 when Bellamy came home earlier, exhausted by the 5-hour drive from TonDC Tech to Arkadia. He wasn’t planning on coming home, at least not so soon into his final fall semester, but it’s still August, and this past summer has been an absolute scorcher. Tomorrow and Sunday are going to be brutal apparently, and he wanted to escape the heat and use the pool while his coursework was still relatively manageable. Plus, he figured O would be happy to see him. So, he packed a bag after his last Friday class, and drove north in his old red ford, stopping only once for fuel. He was completely drained by the time he pulled up into the driveway, dragging his feet upstairs and taking the quickest of showers before dropping in his bed like dead weight. His stepdad, Tom, was gone on a business trip currently, so Bellamy parked in the garage instead of on the street like he normally would –not that he worried about anyone in _this_ neighborhood stealing his car. He took the spot anyway though, knowing Finn would probably bitch about it in the morning when he saw it. _Typical_. Finn always had something to say whenever his dad wasn’t around to keep him in line. Bellamy smirked at the thought just before falling asleep, looking forward to seeing his stepbrother fester in his spitefulness once he realized that Bellamy would be home this weekend.

It wouldn’t exactly be a surprise. He knows that Finn dislikes him. The feeling is mutual.

It starts with a heat stirring low in his stomach, as Bellamy lays on the floor of a forest, clutching the dirt below him while a faceless woman teases his cock. His stomach is tight, cock hard, and he breathes shakily, warmth spreading across his body. _It’s hot_ , the excitement before him. One minute he’s sprinting through the woods with a team of people, waving a gun around in his hand, feeling invincible as they search for something –food he thinks –and the next he is suddenly the helpless plaything of a goddess that he can’t see. He can feel her though, mouth hot and wet, teasing him with her attentions, as she finally envelopes the head of him past her lips, stealing a relieved whimper from him.

_“Ohh-”_

He groans, breathless, and the girl takes him deeper, the wetness of her mouth luring him in like an intoxicating vice –until suddenly, the spell is broken. A sound –like gagging –or perhaps simple intuition pulls him from his dream and back into reality, yanking him from the warm sunshine of the beautiful and dangerous forest, and into the darkness of his bedroom, where he quickly realizes that he’s _not_ alone.

“What in the— _wait_ – ** _whoa!_** ”

He feels _something_ , a presence in bed with him; a sensation that’s warm and wet and _on_ him, and his heart jumps. A flicker of fear spreads in his veins, cold as ice, but it quickly morphs into confusion as he scrambles for the lamp on his nightside table, bringing attention to the shape of a human body underneath his sheets. Logic abandons his brain, and Bellamy pulls the sheets away from himself, a chilling cocktail of fear, confusion and arousal flooding him, but then immediately turning into plain shock as he sees the face of his stepbrother’s girlfriend _in bed with him_. Her hair down, blue eyes sparking, bright red lips stretched wide around him and a flirty expression on her face. Oh fuck.

_Holy fuck._

He doesn’t react. He _can’t_ react, because in less than a second he can just _see_ her mind start to spiral, transforming the entire atmosphere of the situation. Bellamy blinks, helpless do to anything else –and he sees the flirty, playfulness of her features quickly shift into something that’s somehow an even deeper expression than shock. A popping sound echoes lightly in the room as he watches her yank her mouth off him, exposing his cock to the air, flesh now feeling cool in comparison to the warm wet cavern of her mouth. The momentum of the action carries her all the way down to the floor, where he sees that she’s almost completely naked. _Jesus._

He tries not to look – _he really does try_ — but he finds himself unable to prevent his traitorous eyes from raking over her form. He sees her skin, pale and soft looking, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window across the room. His eyes catch sight of her tits, large and round, with cute little pink nipples hard and tight. _God._ He barely manages to glimpse the red panties covering her pussy when she finds the sheets on the floor and covers herself — but not before Bellamy sees the incriminating wet spot dampening the center of them. His body runs hot at the sight, cock throbbing, involuntarily.

_Jesus fucking Christ._

His body moves towards her before he permits it to, leaning his torso forward and looking down at her face —never mind his cock still being exposed— where he sees her eyes looking up at him too, shock plainly evident on her doll like features.

_Holy shit._

He really wishes he could remember her name right now.

“Shit! Sorry! I’m so, so sorry, please. I didn’t mean to — _fuck_ I —I’m really, really sorry.”

She’s starts in immediately before he can ask her—voice coming out panicked, hysterical even, as she stands, nearly tripping over her own two feet in the process. Bellamy watches her desperately clutching his sheets to her body, her tiny hands bunching the material, holding it above her chest and letting it pool at her feet. But the thin white fabric does little to conceal the pointed buds of her nipples —not that he’s about to say anything. She’s probably cold now, after being in the warmth of his bed. He hisses a bit as he shifts, feeling the chill as well on the skin of his still hard cock, hoping that it’ll go down soon.

He watches as she backs away from him, still whisper-shouting apologies and gasping when she collides with the wall on the opposite side of the bed. She’s clearly surprised, Bellamy can tell by her reaction alone. He should be uncomfortable too he thinks, probably even pissed off at having been woken up so suddenly in the middle of the night by a practical stranger, but instead he finds himself feeling curious, maybe even a bit amused. Because yes, this situation _is_ unexpected, and he can tell she’s freaking out, her body language giving it away. But if he’s being honest, it’s kind of cute, seeing her stand before him, eyes big and lip worried, as she apologizes, over and over. And he knows that this could cause a lot of problems for them both should anyone —say Finn—find out about this.

But Bellamy would be lying, if he said that seeing his cock stuffed inside his stepbrother’s girlfriend’s mouth wasn’t both hot and satisfying as hell.

He sees it —the vision of her, sexy, delicious and scandalous, still fresh in his mind. He closes his eyes and imagines her lips, juicy, bright red and wrapped around him. He remembers her wavy blonde hair flowing down, strands gently tickling his balls as she took him. She had nearly taken him all the way to the base if memory serves him —before she finally gagged. He bets that she could have done it had she relaxed her throat more, and _fuck_ , that’s a nice thought. His cock twitches at the idea of it, and immediately the girl’s pretty eyes flicker down to it before quickly averting back, a darker blush creeping up and deepening the shade of her already red cheeks.

Shit. His cock is still out.

“Oh, right.” Bellamy attempts, forcing an awkward chuckle and clearing his throat a bit, as he looks down and sees his cock standing upright, _still_ hard as hell and pointing towards his stomach—clearly wanting very much to know whether she can deepthroat. He notices his boxers are still on his hips —apparently, she did not successfully remove them from his person— and he pulls them back into place, struggling a fair bit to fit the fabric over his hard on. He can see her in his peripheral, watching him as he struggles, but refusing to move from her spot on the wall. Bellamy does ultimately manage to cover himself, but the sight of multiple lipstick stains on the crotch of his boxers proves to be another challenge in the ongoing effort to taper his boner.

_This girl’s going to kill him._

He looks up at her, unable to hold back the smirk tugging at his upper lip, and she exhales in what he can only assume is resigned shame. “ _oh fuck.”_ The girl whispers under her breath, clearly mortified, eyes casting downward towards the floor. He should feel bad, for enjoying her humiliation when she’s already obviously distressed over the situation, but instead, his smirk broadens, suddenly very interested in hearing what she has to say about this.

“Got quite a mouth there, blondie.” He starts, slowly standing up and walking towards her, the dim bulb from his nightstand lamp lighting up the room perfectly, letting him see the cute little mole above her lip, and her complexion, clear of any impurities. “Didn’t think an innocent girl like you would have such a colorful vocabulary.”

He stops a few paces in front of her, cock shamelessly poking in his boxers, and she slowly lifts her eyes to meet his. She looks at him, her small frame emphasized by his shadow looming over her. It excites him more than it should.

“But then again, innocent girls don’t suck on their boyfriend’s stepbrother’s cocks. Do they?”

Quickly, he watches her eyes turn from apologetic to indignant at the vulgarity of his words, and he takes a step closer, eyes unabashedly traveling down her body, as she tightens his sheets around herself.

“Fine. I’m _sorry_.” She speaks, suddenly sounding bolder and less afraid, and Bellamy is taken aback at the change in her demeanor, voice now lacking the panicked shrill from minutes ago. “It was an accident. Please believe me if I had known that you were _you_ and not…” She trails off, huffing when she finally realizes his eyes are trying to see her through the nearly translucent sheet. She clears her throat and crosses her arms when his eyes move back to hers, seemingly not approving of his checking her out. Well _too bad_. He caught her with almost his entire cock in her mouth for fuck’s sake, he can have a look at her if he wants to, it’s _his_ room after-all, and so far, she’s taken farther liberties than he.

“Not who, your boyfriend? Not _Finn_ you mean? Why princess, I’m wounded.”

Bellamy puffs his chest and crosses his arms as well, not about to let her play the victim when this whole thing is her own damn fault. Besides, he should be insulted. She just compared him to _Finn_ of all people. Like it’s somehow his fault that she mistook him for that annoying twat.

“Don’t call me that!” She hisses, stepping away from the wall finally to get in his face, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that she has only a sheet covering her body. Well… that, and a red thong, which if he remembers right, is absolutely _soaking wet_ just from sucking him.

Not that she’ll ever admit to that, he imagines.

Bellamy rolls his eyes, unimpressed by her new tough attitude. “What should I call you then, hmm? Little miss blondie big tits? Or how about midnight cock-sucker?”

He hears her gasp before he sees it, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as his words sink in. He’s definitely pissed her off now—but that’s just part of the fun. It’s not like she can even retaliate at this point, because if she does, he’ll just go tell Finn everything.

And if _that_ doesn’t give him a rush of satisfaction.

He has her, trapped under his thumb, the threat of Finn finding out too strong of a card for her to gamble with. She seems to realize it too he thinks, and he watches her eyes narrow and glare back at him.

“Clarke.” She huffs.

“My name is Clarke.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I always adding more chapters at the last minute?

Clarke is going to kill him.

She’s _actually_ going to kill him. _Him_ — _Bellamy Blake_ , _Finn’s stepbrother_ – _the guy who’s dick she just mistakenly sucked_. The one who’s standing in front of her right now shirtless, his dark brown curls disheveled from sleep, lipstick-stained boxers barely covering his erection and lips turned up in a _fucking_ infuriating smirk, clearly enjoying her suffering. She’s angry, _fucking mortified_ , and she’s going to kill him. She just has to, _needs_ to, there’s no other option for her, right? Unless she risks him blabbing off to Finn and ruining her relationship, which judging by the look on his face, he really wants to.

To think it was only a few minutes ago that Clarke thought _she_ would be the one dying from embarrassment after what just happened. Being caught red handed –or more like red _lipped_ —in Bellamy’s bed, with her mouth stretched wide around his cock, thinking she was giving her boyfriend a blowjob was easily the most embarrassing moment of her life. She’d been shocked, dumbstruck even. She’d apologized as much as her body could allow her, all the while trying desperately to ignore how she could actually _taste_ him in her mouth still. Tangy, masculine and musky. She couldn’t get the flavor off her tongue no matter how much she tried swallowing between apologies. If anything, swallowing only made it worse, because she could feel just how deeply she had taken him –nearly all the way down her throat. The thought made her skin flush crimson and had a strange liquid heat rushing through her veins that she couldn’t describe. For a minute she thought perhaps he’d be understanding of her predicament, maybe even slightly sympathetic, but instead he’s just… _mocking_ her. She can see the way he looks at her in the dim light of his bedroom, lips turned up in a devilish smirk, and eyes gleaming with some kind of sick excitement as he looks her up and down, no doubt relishing seeing her body covered with only a god-damned sheet. _She really needs to put her clothes back on._ And to add insult to injury, the asshole doesn’t even remember her name.

Yeah, Clarke is really starting to understand why Finn hates him so much.

Of all the things she considered before coming over to the Collins/Blake house tonight, she didn’t even think for a moment that Bellamy could possibly be here this weekend. She doesn’t get it, it doesn’t make any sense to her why he even is here right now, when he just left for school not even a month ago. He left about 3 weeks ago she thinks –scratch that, she _knows_ , because Finn practically threw a whole fucking party after-ward. Came over to her house when her parents were gone with Harper, Monty and Jasper in tow, carrying soda, two bottles of vodka and a pizza. It had been a fun night from what Clarke remembers of it, but at the time she thought celebrating Bellamy’s departure was over-kill, almost even a bit ridiculous. Now however, as she stares him down with only a fucking sheet on her body, trying desperately to ignore the wetness between her legs, she takes back every word she’s ever told Finn in his defense.

Every. Fucking. Word.

She hates him. He’s a jerk. A mocking, smirking, fucking infuriating jerk who had the audacity to call her “princess”, never mind the other vulgar and offensive nicknames he threw at her.

She narrows her eyes at him, glaring with all the venom she can muster.

“Clarke” She huffs, voice sounding icy and malicious she hopes.

“My name is Clarke.”

She needs to get dressed. Go home before someone in the house wakes up and hears them talking and catches her in Bellamy’s room wearing nothing but a sheet and a pair of panties that she’s been telling herself aren’t wet. She almost wants to just drop the damn thing and get dressed uncaring whether he looks or not. She knows he already saw her naked, or at the very least caught glimpses of her. She doesn’t imagine he’d give her any privacy, anyway, seeing how he’s been unabashedly letting his dark eyes roam over her covered body while he crowds her.

A shiver runs down her spine as Bellamy matches her glare with a glint of amusement in his eyes and fuck—he _loves_ this, she can tell by the look on his face alone. Not to mention she can still see his hard-on in her peripheral vision. It’s the only reason why she’s even looking up at him at all instead of down at her feet like she wishes she could.

How the hell is he _still_ hard?

She scoffs at him, rolling her eyes and gesturing with her free hand for him to move.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get dressed so I can just leave already. I think I’ve endured enough humiliation tonight, without you checking me out like some perv.”

It comes out biting, angry sounding, and Clarke is relieved she’s finally managed to rid herself of the pathetic and small voice from before that actually _apologized_ to this prick. But still, he stands in front of her, broad body making it harder for her to get away from him unless he does move. His voice echoes in the room, low and deep. Her insides feel strange at the sound of it.

“Alright go ahead, princess. You can get dressed, don’t let a _perv_ like me stop you.”

Bellamy’s smirk deepens, seeming pleased with himself for calling her “princess” _again_ and Clarke desperately wishes she could just tug it right off his stupid face, reverse the tides, make him feel embarrassed for once. An idea forms in her head, and before she can decide against it, she meets his eyes and shrugs, attempting to sound nonchalant like he does.

“Well, if you say so, Bellamy.” She smiles sweetly, before boldly dropping the sheet and walking right fucking past him, proud of herself for the surprised look on his face as she heads to the computer desk where her clothes are folded. Shocked, and silent, Bellamy let’s her go through, and Clarke feels a surge of satisfaction swell inside her at having finally gotten the upper hand in their situation. She knows she has a nice body, is aware of the effect her luscious curves have on most men. She turns around and faces him, watches his wide eyes travel upward from where he was clearly staring at her ass, back towards her own blue orbs, lingering for a long moment on her uncovered breasts, breathing hard.

She glances down at him quickly, and sees his cock is somehow ever harder than before. He’s practically about to poke a hole through his boxers from how fucking hard he is. Her smile grows.

“What’s the matter Blake? Never seen a naked girl before?” Clarke goads him, relishing in the way his mouth hangs open slightly, smirk nowhere in sight, and fuck, it feels good to finally give it all back to him. His sass, his gall, his _audacity_. She’d been so embarrassed before, she doesn’t want him thinking he has that kind of power over her—especially if he plans on telling Finn.

But just like that, the mere mention of her boyfriend’s name makes her stomach drop, shame washing over her as quickly as her pride came surging through.

_Finn_

In less than a second Clarke is riddled with guilt again, just like before when she first realized it was Bellamy she was with. Her blood turns cold at the realization that she just willingly, _purposefully_ displayed her body to his stepbrother. What is she doing? She’s _Finn’s_ girlfriend, not Bellamy’s. This time, she doesn’t even have the excuse of it being an accident.

Her pride now gone as quickly as it returned, and guilt taking its place, Clarke quickly turns her head away from Bellamy before she can see whatever smirk is about to take residence on his face once he thinks of a comeback. Hastily, she walks over to the computer desk to grab her jeans, her body still nearly naked and with no other way to cover up, the sheet from before dropped by Bellamy’s feet.

What the hell was she thinking? Egging him on like that? She can’t afford to be teasing him right now, no matter how much he deserves it for being such a dick towards her. She needs to somehow convince him not to tell Finn about this. Despite how mortified she feels now, she won’t be able to so much as _think_ about her boyfriend again if he finds out. And the last three months they’ve been together will be forever tarnished by the shame washing over her now at having been so reckless, so _stupid._

Clarke drops her jeans in her haste, and curses as she bends down to pick them up, not even wondering if it’s a bad idea to do that with Bellamy standing behind her, because well, of all the things she’s done tonight, him seeing her wearing nothing but a thong is somehow the _least_ embarrassing. She’s just managed to grab the denim off the floor, when a large, firm hand comes up behind her and grabs her ass, squeezing _hard._ Clarke gasps from her spot, still bent over, head down towards the floor, and ass in the air, shocked at his brazenness.

“Well, princess, I sure as hell have never seen _you_ naked before tonight, so you’ll have to forgive me.” Bellamy huffs behind her, voice sounding deeper, darker, than before, as his other hand joins in and grips her other ass cheek, kneading. She drops her jeans again and places her hands on the floor to steady herself. Blood rushes in Clarke’s ears and her mouth opens to gasp once more, but for some reason, she stays where she is, making no effort to move. Her heart _pounds_. “I can see why Finn obsesses over you all the time.” Bellamy’s hands rub her skin, moving slightly away from her ass to grip her hips as well, bringing her slightly towards his groin and _fuck_ , her pussy clenches. His voice, low and rough, is doing strange things for her. “You’re _fucking gorgeous_ , Clarke. Big blue eyes, huge fucking tits. Round, and soft, peachy ass.”

His hands are hot and rough as they grope her, he moves her body just slightly back and forth as he rocks himself against her, fingers massaging her skin. Clarke hears him moaning softly behind her as his fingers touch the little red string of lace between her cheeks. She’s breathing hard too she realizes, when she lets out a breathy gasp at the feel of _him_ , hard and hot and poking her thigh. His boxers touch her bare skin, and before she can stop it, she moans when his cock finally rubs against her barely covered folds.

Holy shit this is…this is _fucking hot._

“My stepbrother’s innocent little princess.” He speaks as he slowly thrusts against her, voice condescending. “Only you’re not so innocent now, are you? Probably not his anymore either, not after tonight anyway. What do you think he’d say if he saw you like this, his beautiful, sweet girlfriend, naked and bent over in front of me, moaning while I dry hump you?”

Bellamy grinds hard against her as he says the words “dry hump”, and – _god help her_ — she moans again, louder this time, her blue eyes rolling into the back of her head. He spreads her legs a bit wider without any protest from her, hitting her clothed clit deliciously, and holy shit, it feels good. It doesn’t take Clarke much longer to realize that she doesn’t have the upper hand here, not by a long shot. _He’s_ the one in control here, has been the whole time. He’s got her under his thumb right now, bent over, wet and pliant, waiting for him to tell her what he wants in exchange for his silence. He knows it, has all along, and now so does she.

“Don’t tell Finn, please.” She gasps, her voice coming out breathy, high pitched. “I’ll- I’ll….”

Bellamy grinds into her a few more times, hands strong at her hips, simply moving her body to whatever rhythm feels best for him. She can feel her wet panties against her even slicker folds as he pushes himself against her. Her core clenches, warmth spreading low in her stomach, and an unwelcome realization comes over her, making her skin heat with a burning shame. What she’s doing right now with Bellamy, what she’s about to do –it’s _cheating_. She’s cheating on Finn right now – _with his stepbrother_ … but she can’t seem to bring herself to stop. She doesn’t want to stop.

“ _I’ll do whatever the hell you want.”_

There they are –the magic words, the ticket to buy his silence. She hears him groan behind her, a deep, satisfied rumble, and suddenly he stops thrusting. A hot hand travels lightly up her spine, electric jolts shooting off from where he touches her. Fingers gently twirl the ends of her blonde waves before tugging just slightly, and a whisper, low and quiet, but heavy with intention makes her shiver with anticipation.

“Turn around, princess, towards me.”

_Princess_ , the dreaded nickname Finn gave her that she’s never managed to shake. She’s always hated it. The way he said it, the tone of his voice whenever he called her it –she despised it. Wanted nothing more than for him to forget all about it and come up with a new nickname for her. It never did anything for her when he said it while touching her, or whenever he moaned it out loud while they kissed. It drove her nuts having to hear him say it.

But it’s doing something to her right now, hearing the word come out of Bellamy’s mouth. The moment he says it, she swears she can feel a gush of liquid drip into her ruined panties, her stomach flips with shameful excitement over it. Her legs are wobbly, but Clarke does manage to stand up and turn around, moving her feet 180 degrees so that she’s now facing him –so close that she can see his freckles, the tan color of his skin glowing from the lamp near his bed. Her body thrums from their proximity.

She’s doing this for Finn she reminds herself, trying to push the guilt aside.

She stares at him a moment, watches his eyes travel directly to her chest, her breasts rising and falling rapidly with her breathing. He reaches his hand out to touch one, pupils dilated by the mere sight of them in front of him, and she gasps as he gently caresses and fills his hand, not quite able to fit the entire mound in his palm. He moves to her other breast before letting go a few moments later. Captivated, he takes her hands in his own, bringing them to the waistband of his boxers and tugging delicately. Bellamy guides her movements, his hands covering hers as she slowly manages to completely remove his boxers, quite unlike before when she only pulled them down enough to get his cock out. It is a bit of a struggle, admittedly, with him being so hard and Clarke not wishing to bring him any discomfort, but she does ultimately manage to pull him free. His red-stained boxers falling by his ankles where he steps out of them and kicks them off to the side, his feet carrying him a step closer to her, his cock, proudly pointing towards her stomach, is mere inches from poking her where she stands.

The room is quiet now, save for their breathing, and in the light, Clarke can see _him_ fully. The dark pink flesh of his cock, jutting out towards her, just _begging_ for attention. The head of his large, thick cock weeps a small bead of white liquid at the slit, and her heart pounds, nervous, but also excited at what’s about to come –about what he’s going to ask her to do.

Silently, Bellamy’s hands reach out to Clarke’s shoulders and gently push, encouraging her to bend halfway down. Clarke breathes, allowing him to direct her and keeping her feet planted on the ground. He moves her until her back is flat, face now directly in front of his cock, the warm head just shy of poking her cheek. Unsure of how to balance herself, she looks up to Bellamy. His trademark smirk returns to his features before he mischievously places her hands on his hips, only this time she doesn’t feel mocked by him. Not right now when there’s such an intense heat in his eyes as he watches her from the spot that he’s put her in. She can feel the heat of his cock on her face, the heat of his skin on her hands as she uses his body to hold herself up. 

She looks up at him, waiting for the words that she’s finally ready to hear. Her heart thumps loud in her chest, pumping more blood to her throbbing core. Without thinking, she rubs her legs together, finding herself now desperate to open her mouth and resume giving his cock the attention she was before, this time fully aware of who it is that will be occupying her mouth.

She can feel guilty later, but right now, Finn is the last thing on her mind.

Bellamy’s hand touches her bottom lip, moving back and forth a few seconds before traveling to her jaw. Clarke leans into it, taking one last breath from her mouth.

Her thumbs caress the bottom of his stomach, she feels the words vibrate on his skin. His eyes look down into her own, pupils black and fully dilated, lids heavy. Her pussy squeezes around nothing. His voice rumbles with desire, _desperation_.

“Suck my cock, princess, and I’ll never say a word about this.”


End file.
